To Torment An Elf
by Mercuria
Summary: A parody of Legolas torture fics. PG-13 for slight swearing and major sexual innuendo. *Third chapter up!*
1. Is That a Magic Marker in Your Pocket?

Mercuria: All right, allow me to explain. I love reading Legolas torture fics. But they often get a bit too intense for my delicate little mind *ignores snickering from readers* so I often find myself thinking, "Hey, that's pretty gruesome, but it'd be funny if ..."  
Merely to stay sane, you see.  
So, one night, I was lying in bed tossing and turning due to what I am beginning to suspect is insomnia, and I decided to compile all of my "it'd-be-funny-if"s and write ... this fic!  
Note: This story contains silly slash and a humorous semi-rape scene. If you are uncomfortable with making light of such things, then I would advise you not to read this. My intention is not to hurt people.  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine. This story is largely based off of the writings of Lisseyelen (aka Lady V) and Minka, may their pens never run dry. The song is from The Two Towers. OOC-ness abounds.  
*********************  
  
It was a beautiful day in Mirkwood forest. The birds were singing, the sky was blue above the treetops, and the giant spiders were chasing ill-fated travelers through the underbrush.   
The fair Elven prince, Legolas Greenleaf, was taking a leisurely stroll through the woods, reveling in the beauty of nature and the tortured screams of the unwilling spider-food. Several small furry animals approached Legolas and rubbed up against his legs, knowing in their tiny brains that since he was an Elf, he would be inclined to feed them and pet them and sing to them.  
"Ah, good morning little friends," Legolas said in delight. "How innocent and guileless you are! You would never use your tiny size and furriness to manipulate people into being kind to you."  
The woodland creatures, feeling guilty, slunk away. Legolas shrugged and walked on.  
Eventually he came upon a lovely little clearing and proceeded to sit down, for although he was not very tired he was quite hungry, being as his leisurely stroll had begun at six in the morning when his father had discovered that his favorite hound was stuck full of arrows.  
"I thought it was an Orc," he muttered to himself, munching on a wafer of imported lembas. "In the dark, it really did look like an Orc, especially since it was standing on its hind legs and drooling. Maybe it had rabies! Elbereth, my father should be thanking me ..."  
The prince's reverie was interrupted by the arrival of about a score of Orcs.  
"Ai!" Legolas cried, leaping to his feet. "What are YOU doing so far into Greenwood?!"  
The Orcs laughed. Legolas cringed.  
"Hahahaha," chuckled one Orc, a chuckle more like the sound of a small child choking on a fishbone, "we disguised ourselves by wearing these bushes atop our heads and crawling along the forest floor!"  
The Orcs all nodded, their floppy green bush-like hats flapping back and forth.  
"Our knees are very sore," the same Orc continued, "so if you wouldn't mind coming with us quietly ..."  
Legolas growled. He was completely surrounded, and had left his knives and bow back in his room.  
"Come quietly?" the Prince of Mirkwood repeated in an affronted tone. "No way in hell! I may not have any weapons, but I can still fight!"  
The Orcs blinked.  
"He has no weapons?" one said. "GET HIM!"  
"Damn," Legolas muttered.  
A rock flew at his head, and Legolas dodged. A ferocious battle ensued.   
That is, it WOULD have ensued had not another rock flown from the opposite direction, connecting with Legolas' skull and sending him into a state of unconsciousness.   
***************  
"We have an Elf, boss!" the same Orc who had conversed with Legolas called.  
From one of Orthanc's numerous high balconies, Saruman the Self-proclaimed Of Many Colors Who Used To Be White yelled back, "You have a WHAT?"  
"An ELF!"  
"Oh!"  
Saruman chuckled gleefully.  
"Brilliant!" he shouted down. "Set it at the very top, all right?"  
"WHAT?"  
"THE TOP!" Saruman shouted. "PUT THE ELF AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER!"  
The Orc blinked.  
"But boss! There aren't any stairs that lead to the top!"  
Pause.  
"DAMN! I keep forgetting! Uhhhh ... fine, give it to me, and I'LL put it at the top!"  
"Okay!"  
"WHAT?!"  
"OKAY!"  
***************  
Legolas woke up with a splitting headache. Had someone hit him with a rock?   
Oh, yes, the Orcs. Right.  
The Elf dazedly gathered that he was sitting on someone's lap, and that that someone had one hand on his chest and the other one resting perilously close to his groin.  
"Awake, my prince?" a voice whispered in his ear. Legolas gasped.  
"YIKES! SARUMAN!" he shrieked, leaping up into the air. Unfortunately, he was currently situated atop Orthanc, which gave him little room in which to scream and leap about. After beholding a drop of more feet than he cared to think about, Legolas eeped and clung desperately to one of Orthanc's black pillars.  
"W-what's going on here?" Legolas demanded.  
"Well," Saruman said conversationally, "I was planning to torture you with whips and strange metal devices until you have no clue who you are and then make you my mindless slave."  
Legolas stood still for awhile, trying to take it all in. Saruman cackled diabolically because he could.  
"Wow, that's nice of you, but no thanks," the Elven prince said finally.  
Saruman grinned evilly.  
"Now, now, sarcasm will get you nowhere," he chuckled.  
Legolas blinked.  
"No, no, that's not sarcasm!" he said. "You mean you didn't know?"  
"Know what?" asked Saruman suspiciously.  
"About my weapons and metal torture device fetish?" Legolas said. "I love that kind of stuff! And I'm also into BDSM."  
Saruman's eyes widened for an instant before he managed to regain his normal composure.   
"Ah," he said. "I see."  
There was a long moment of silence.  
"Please excuse me while I try to think of a new plan," Saruman said quickly.  
Legolas nodded.  
"Of course."  
******************  
Thranduil looked around, tapping his chin with his finger. Something was not right.  
'There haven't been any huge catastrophic disasters all day,' he thought to himself. 'My son must not be here!'  
"You," he said, grabbing a young Elf by the arm. "Where is Legolas?"  
The Elf blinked.  
"Um ..." she said intelligently. "He's ... uh ... out?"  
Thranduil shoved her out of the way and marched down the hall.  
"Where is my SON?" he roared.  
******************  
It was getting dark, and Legolas was getting bored. The destruction of the nearby Fangorn forest reminded him of a song they used to sing in Greenwood, so he started to sing it in the hopes of holding onto his sanity for a few more hours.  
"When spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;  
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;  
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!  
When Spring is ... oh, damn, I always forget the Entwife part ... grr, THINK, dammit ..."  
The Elven prince's voice, alternating between singing and cursing violently, drifted down towards Saruman, who was still trying to hatch a brilliant plan to torture the Elf without the Elf getting off on it.  
"He's impossible!" Saruman thought aloud. "An Elf who likes torture! While it is very frustrating for me, it is also slightly arousing! Scratch that, REALLY arousing. I'd love to-"  
Pause.  
"Okay, I need to focus here."  
Then a marvelous idea came to him.   
"Mwahaha!" Saruman cackled. "If I play my cards right, I won't NEED to focus ... I'll just [unprintable] and then maybe [unprintable] with a little [holy smokes, is that even POSSIBLE?] afterwards."  
A chuckle was heard emanating from the depths of Saruman's palantir.  
"Going to have a nice fun-filled evening?" came the voice of Sauron.  
"YIKES!" Saruman cried, leaping up into the air. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING?"  
Harsh laughter was the only reply.  
Back on top of Orthanc, Legolas was rapidly discovering that he couldn't completely remember ANY Elvish songs.  
"Maybe I can make one up ..." he said. "Hmm ..."  
But before he could start singing, a giant eagle flew by overhead.  
"Wow," Legolas said, eyes round, "a giant eagle ... YEAH, I'M SAVED!"  
Legolas began jumping up and down in an undignified manner.  
"Hey! Giant eagle!" he yelled. "Over here!"  
The giant eagle turned gracefully and landed on a spiked pillar. It sat there for a moment, preening itself.   
"Hello, Elf prince," the eagle said. "What reasons have you for sitting on this high tower?"  
"The reason of imprisonment!" Legolas said, miraculously regaining the ability to use proper Middle-earth speech. "Saruman's Orcs captured me and brought me to this place ... will you help me escape?"  
The eagle appeared to be thinking. Then it looked behind Legolas and made a sort of gulping noise.  
"I am sorry," the eagle said quickly, "but you are too much of a burden for me to bear. Besides ... I only perform rescue missions on Tuesdays."  
"But ... it IS Tuesday!" the distraught Elf cried.  
"Every ... erm, every OTHER Tuesday," the bird clarified.  
It then flew away, leaving Legolas to wonder why it had refused to help him.  
"Legolas ..." came Saruman's voice. Oh. THAT was why.  
Legolas backed away from the white wizard slowly.  
"Hello again," he said. "Have you formulated another plan?"  
Saruman pointed his staff at the Elf, paralyzing him.  
"Hmm, yes I have," he said, stepping up to Legolas and brushing a golden strand of hair out of his face. He smirked evilly and whispered, "I thought we might [OH MY GOD, I really did NOT need to think about that]."  
Legolas gasped.  
"Um, no, that's all right," he said quickly, "you don't need to- AI!"  
And so Legolas got his torture after all. For miles around, his screams of anguish could be heard, cutting through the still night air.  
"PLEASE tell me that's a magic marker poking into my back!"  
"EW! Don't TOUCH me there!"  
"What the hell are you going to do with THAT?"  
"GET BACK HERE AND RESCUE ME YOU DAMN BIRD!"  
******************  
Mercuria: Well, there you are. I'm thinking of making this a one-shot, but if I get reviews I might continue. Please gimme some feedback, okay? 


	2. Fashion Icons and Brilliant Plans

Mercuria: Woohoo! Updates! I would like to inform you all that this update is funded in part by Lisseyelen and in another part by "Minority Report."   
  
Why? Because I SAY so.  
  
Notes: Erestor is the head of Elrond's household. We all remember Erestor, don't we? DON'T WE?  
  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings isn't mine. That's riiiight! And the quote ("Ah, you did not like that little encounter ...") is from Lisseyelen's "Isengard's Captives" which you should ALL go read ... no, I am not being paid to plug people's fics.  
  
*************  
  
Thranduil was angry. And when Thranduil was angry, most of the people around him were nursing serious wounds.  
  
"Y-your highness," the head of his household, an Elf named Nevladiel, said timorously, "your son is nowhere within the realm of Mirkwood forest."  
  
Thranduil grabbed the poor Elf and began to shake her violently.  
  
"Then where is he?!" he demanded. "I want to know what has been done with my son RIGHT NOW!"  
  
"B-but yo-ur hi-ighness," Nevladiel cried. "Tha-at is impossi-ible! We don't even kno-ow where to begin our sea-earch!"  
  
Thranduil threw her down in frustration and began to pace rapidly.  
  
"Must think," he muttered. "Where could Legolas be? Think, think, think-"  
  
Fortunately, the convenient arrival of a large eagle prevented Thranduil from having to further immerse himself in the painful process that was thinking.  
  
"Hail, conveniently arriving large eagle!" Thranduil cried. "What news do you bring?"  
  
The eagle shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"Well, um, I have seen your son," it said.   
  
"Where is he?!" Thranduil cried from a face-down position on the ground. He would have tackled the giant bird, but Nevladiel had seen it coming and thrown herself at his ankles.  
  
The eagle blinked.  
  
"He is ... uh, that is to say ..."   
  
Thranduil glared and stood up, brushing himself off.  
  
"Tell me what has been done with Legolas," he growled.  
  
The eagle gulped again.   
  
"He'sbeingheldprisonerbySarumanatIsengardandhe'sinbigbigTROUBLE!"  
  
Nevladiel and Thranduil blinked.  
  
"Then we must go rescue him!" Thranduil roared. "We shall send out Mirkwood's finest warriors to take Saruman by surprise and save my son!"  
  
Nevladiel gasped.  
  
"No, my lord!" she cried. "We cannot do that!"  
  
Thranduil glared.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Nevladiel appeared to be thinking. "Well," she said finally, "to speak truthfully, I am not sure ..."  
  
Thranduil groaned. 'Stupid subordinates ...'  
  
"Who made you head of my household?" he demanded.   
  
"YOU did," came the reply.   
  
Thranduil looked as though he might seriously injure Nevladiel, so she quickly said, "My lord, I may not know exactly what to do, but one thing I am sure of is that we MUST NOT attack Isengard directly!"  
  
The Elven king wrinkled his brow. He still wasn't sure exactly WHY attacking Isengard would be a bad plan, but he too was starting to get this nagging feeling that he should just let it go ...  
  
"All right," he said finally, "so what must we do?"  
  
The giant eagle had been trying to edge away stealthily throughout the Elves' conversation, but giant eagles are notoriously bad at sneaking. Nevladiel and Thranduil turned to glare at it. Cowed, it slunk back over to them.  
  
"Well," it said to the frustrated Elves, "we could ... uh, well ... wait, I'VE GOT IT!"  
  
Thranduil and Nevladiel tapped their graceful Elven feet impatiently.  
  
"King Thranduil," the eagle said, "you shall send an envoy to meet with Elrond of Imladris, for he is wise and can help you!"  
  
Thranduil scowled.   
  
"I dislike Elrond," he said. "For he is a pansy and wears silly robes."  
  
The giant eagle considered this while Nevladiel fingered her own robes self-consciously. Lord Elrond was something of a fashion icon to her.  
  
"King Thranduil," the eagle said patiently, "now is not the time for petty prejudices and foolish pride. It is a generally accepted fact that all Elves wear silly robes."  
  
Nevladiel and Thranduil glared.  
  
"Do you desire to rescue your son?"  
  
Thranduil nodded vehemently, and was probably about to launch into a long and flowery speech, but the eagle mercifully cut him off.  
  
"Then we go to Imladris!" it cried.  
  
*************  
  
Legolas was busy doodling on the back of his hand with Saruman's magic marker. It was orange. Personally, he thought it would be more poetically just if it was white- or "of many colors." But no matter.  
  
'I can't BELIEVE he [OKAY, OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH, REALLY],' Legolas thought with a shiver. 'And I can't believe that eagle would abandon me! Grrr ... Saruman will die ...'  
  
As if summoned by his thoughts, Saruman appeared behind him.   
  
"Hello, princeling," Saruman whispered in what he probably thought was a seductive voice.  
  
Legolas recoiled and hit Saruman over the head.  
  
"BACK, DEMON!" he cried, a wild look in his eyes.  
  
Saruman smiled knowingly.  
  
"Ah ... you did not like that little encounter that you and I had last night, did you?"  
  
Legolas snarled.  
  
"All right, I'll take that as a no," Saruman said. Then he grinned. "But I think you WILL enjoy what I have in store for you today ..."  
  
The wizard snapped his fingers and immediately two Orcs appeared, bearing metal torture devices.  
  
"Just red-hot pokers today, boss?" one of them asked.  
  
Saruman nodded curtly.  
  
"Yes, that will do nicely."  
  
Legolas blinked. Saruman knew about his fetish ...   
  
Was this going to be a torture session ... or a TORTURE session?  
  
**************  
  
After many hours of riding, Nevladiel and Thranduil found a plot hole and reached Rivendell in a matter of seconds.  
  
"What a rush!" Nevladiel cried as the plot hole spit them out.  
  
Thranduil snickered. His second-in-command was sporting a look that could best be described as "electrical socket." Little did he know that his own hair looked even more ridiculous.  
  
The two rode into Imladris, ignoring the stares and titters of bystanders. After several minutes of humiliation, they reached Elrond, who was basking in the sunlight on a delicate wooden chair. "Um, my lord," Erestor was saying, "King Thranduil and the head of his household are comi-"  
  
Thranduil coughed.  
  
"Er, they're here."  
  
Elrond turned lazily to observe them.  
  
"Hail, friends," he said with a yawn. "What news do you bring?"  
  
Thranduil growled. He looked as though he was about to lunge at Elrond, so Nevladiel quickly pinned his arms behind his back.  
  
"What NEWS do I bring?!" Thranduil said incredulously, straining against the head of his household. "What NEWS? Only news of treachery and kidnapping, my LORD Elrond."  
  
Elrond's eyes widened. He leapt up and grabbed Thranduil's shoulder.  
  
"What do you mean?" he cried.  
  
"I MEAN," Thranduil said, "that Saruman has betrayed us by kidnapping my son Legolas!"  
  
Elrond gasped.  
  
"And he's committing sexual improprieties with him!" the giant eagle (who once again managed to appear at an opportune time) screamed from high over Imladris.   
  
Elrond gasped again. Thranduil went livid.  
  
"YOU NEVER TOLD ME SARUMAN WAS SCREWING MY SON, YOU WORTHLESS BIRD!" he screeched. "NEVLADIEL, FETCH MY ARROWS!"  
  
Nevladiel complied, looking extremely unhappy with the situation. The giant eagle quickly dove below the horizon line.  
  
"King Thranduil, calm yourself!" Elrond cried. "Do not shoot the messenger!"  
  
"Literally," Erestor added helpfully.  
  
Thranduil scowled and handed his bow and arrows back to Nevladiel, who put them away.  
  
"Thranduil, I will help you to retrieve your son," Elrond promised. "I will concoct a brilliant plan!"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Erestor."  
  
"Yes, my lord?"  
  
"Find Glorfindel and come up with a plan."  
  
Erestor sighed.  
  
"At once, my lord."  
  
The Elf left. Thranduil glared at Elrond and thrust out his hand to be shaken.  
  
"My thanks," he said gruffly. "Even if you are an indolent nancing prat with prissy robes, I am grateful for your help."  
  
Elrond blinked.  
  
"You are ... welcome," he replied, shaking Thranduil's hand.  
  
"It's all right, my lord," Nevladiel whispered into Elrond's ear. "Your robes are quite stunning. Might I inquire as to where you purchased them?"  
  
**************  
  
Mercuria: Well, that's all for now! WILL Erestor and Glorfindel concoct a plan? WILL Legolas be rescued? WILL he suffer at the hands *snerk* of Saruman? Or will he ... SUFFER? Find out next time!  
  
P.S. You may have noticed an OC in this chapter ... (no duh) ... Yes, she is an Original Female Character. BWAHAHAHA! I have shamelessly turned the original head of Thranduil's household (whoever THAT is) into ... Nevladiel! *sheepish grin* I beg your forgiveness. If she is too Suvian for your tastes, however, please tell me and I'll make her a little less so. 


	3. Feasts, Geeks, and Using the Palantir

Mercuria: All right, chapter three is here! Isn't this exciting? I'm actually going to have more than three chapters in this thing. *looks around at horrified faces* Oh, cut that out.  
  
Notes: Yes, this is a Saruman/Legolas slash, but only one-sided. Never fear for all of you who are less slash inclined! (Although this is obviously not a tale for the squeamish.)  
  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine. Nope. Uh-uh. All I own is Nevladiel, my little almost-Mary Sue. *hugs Nevladiel* There there, dear.  
  
*************  
  
Legolas groaned in a mixture of pain and complete contentment. Yes, Saruman was evil and frightening, but those pokers had really hit the spot. Hm, and it'd been great to finally meet someone else who suffered the social stigma of being a sadomasochist. Maybe if they managed to work out this whole kidnapping business, they could be friends ...  
  
Legolas sat bolt upright, sending spasms of pain down his spine. Where had THAT idea come from?!  
  
After looking around warily, Legolas leaned against one of Orthanc's pillars and closed his eyes. He had to watch out; he must be getting susceptible to mind control ... or something.  
  
'Somebody save me QUICK,' he thought before falling asleep.  
  
***********  
  
After several hours of deep thought and careful planning, Erestor and Glorfindel announced that there was to be a banquet in honor of Thranduil's arrival. Thranduil was not pleased.  
  
"What on earth are they DOING holding a feast when my son is being molested at this very moment?!" he raged as he paced about his temporary chamber.  
  
*********  
  
"A six of hearts, Legolas?" "Go fish."  
  
********  
  
"Perhaps they are stalling, my lord?" Nevladiel said distractedly as she examined herself in Thranduil's full-length mirror. Her own room had a mirror, but it wasn't as large.  
  
"Stalling!" Thranduil exclaimed. "That's precisely it! Those lazy, nancing Elves are buying themselves more time because they can't think of a plan! Grrr ... I'm going to give those two a piece of my mind, Nevladiel, and you- Nevladiel?"  
  
The Elf wasn't listening. She was busily observing herself in the mirror, wearing robes that looked quite similar to the ones Elrond had been wearing earlier.  
  
"What is THAT?" Thranduil demanded. His subordinate grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Er, an outfit for the feast, my lord?"   
  
Thranduil appeared to be mentally counting to ten, then deciding not to bother.  
  
"Even my own HOUSEHOLD is against me!" he raged. "No Elf of Mirkwood will be attending that loathsome banquet! Take off those robes IMMEDIATELY and-"  
  
"M-my lord?!"  
  
Thranduil rolled his eyes.  
  
"Change into something befitting your station- because you're still on the job, Nevladiel- and seek out Lord Elrond. Tell him that I wish to speak with him."  
  
Nevladiel sighed, casting one last fond look at her reflection.  
  
"At once, my lord."  
  
**********  
  
Twenty minutes later, Elrond, Thranduil, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Nevladiel were holding what Thranduil called "a council of war" in Elrond's chambers. Erestor and Glorfindel were currently hiding behind Elrond while Nevladiel once again restrained Thranduil.   
  
"Those lazy nancing Elves ..." the Elven king muttered.   
  
"Yes, my lord," Nevladiel agreed quickly, attempting to mollify him.   
  
Elrond cleared his throat.  
  
"Er, I understand that you are displeased with the banquet," he said.  
  
Thranduil nodded while glaring at Erestor and Glorfindel.  
  
"Yes," he spat. "Those two were supposed to devise a worthy plan, but instead they plan a feast! What is the meaning of this?!"  
  
Erestor and Glorfindel looked at each other guiltily.   
  
"Well," Glorfindel began, "if you really want to know the truth ..."  
  
Thranduil nodded.  
  
"We have a plan," Erestor said, lowering his voice. "Do you wish to hear it?"  
  
"YES," Thranduil ground out.  
  
"Er, my lord would be most pleased if you would share your plan with him," Nevladiel said quickly; SOMEONE had to be the diplomatic one.  
  
"Well," Erestor said, "our plan is this: a small group will set out from Rivendell with the supposed purpose of going to Isengard to settle on a ransom for Legolas-"  
  
"I will not pay that traitor for the return of Legolas as if he were no more than cattle!" Thranduil said angrily.  
  
"What we will really be doing, however," continued Glorfindel, ignoring the Elven king, "is examining all of Orthanc's weaknesses so that we can rescue the prince as quickly as possible!"  
  
There was a long period of silence.  
  
"You must admit, Thranduil," said Elrond, "it is not a bad plan."  
  
Thranduil gritted his teeth; he hated to admit it, but he couldn't think of anything better.  
  
"Very well," he said finally. "We will use this plan. You, Lord Elrond, and Glorfindel and Erestor, will depart from Rivendell with me and Nevladiel this very night!"  
  
Erestor did not look pleased.  
  
"Er, would it not be better to wait until-"  
  
"THIS VERY NIGHT."  
  
And so it was settled.  
  
**************  
  
"Saruman ... Saruman? SARUMAN!"  
  
"Er, what?"  
  
The multi-colored wizard reluctantly emerged from his reverie and stared disinterestedly into his palantir.  
  
"Saruman," Sauron's voice crackled from Barad-dur, "what the hell is wrong with you? You're a total wreck!"  
  
"No I'm not!" Saruman said defensively.  
  
"Yes, you are. You're not making any more Uruk-hai, you've stopped wantonly destroying the forests, and you don't even bother to torture that Elf! You're depressed, or something. GET OVER IT."  
  
Saruman looked guilty.  
  
"Well, I- it's not that, exactly, but er, Legolas requires a lot of- well, I suppose-"  
  
Sauron snorted.  
  
"Look, at the very least you should be twisting the Elf's arms out of their sockets. Torture him, for the love of bloodlust! It'll do you good."  
  
"No, you don't understand ... I can't hurt him!" Saruman cried.  
  
Sauron gasped, a sound more like the spontaneous combustion of a large flammable object.  
  
"You're ... in LOVE with the thing, aren't you?" he said in horror.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"N-no I'm not."  
  
"Yes you are!"  
  
"No I'm not!"  
  
"Yes, you ARE."  
  
"No I'm n-"   
  
"JUST SHUT UP ALREADY, I KNOW YOU ARE!"  
  
Saruman ducked his head in embarrassment.  
  
"Look, I don't know what you've been doing with the Elf, and frankly I'd be really happy not even thinking about it, but this is a TORTURE fic. Get with the program and use those sharp metal objects!"  
  
Saruman's lower lip began to tremble.  
  
"Oh, stop that, you pansy," Sauron snapped. "You make me sick. Go away and listen to sappy music or something."  
  
Saruman turned away from the palantir and stared out the window despondently.   
  
"Ah, love," Sauron was saying softly. "I miss the feeling. Shelob ... why did you refuse me? WHY?"  
  
"M-my lord?" Saruman said in confusion.  
  
Pause.  
  
"WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? Leave, damn you, LEAVE!"  
  
Saruman quickly ran out of the room.  
  
************   
  
"Well, here we are," Erestor said grimly.   
  
The five rescuers stood in the morning gloom, gazing down into the Wizard's Vale.   
  
"I suppose we should go in now," Elrond said. Everyone nodded and stayed where they were.  
  
"All right, let's go!" Thranduil roared, dragging Nevladiel after him by her arm; Elrond followed. After a moment's hesitation, Erestor and Glorfindel scampered to catch up with the rest of the group.  
  
***********  
  
Knock. Knock knock.  
  
"What do you want?" Saruman called down from a high balcony ... not quite so high as the one he had used in chapter one, though.  
  
"I WANT MY SON, YOU RAPIST!" Thranduil bellowed. Nevladiel tackled him to the ground and, aided by Erestor, gagged him.  
  
"Er, we wish to treat with you for the safe return of Legolas!" Elrond said.  
  
"Ransom?" Saruman yelled. "Forget it!"  
  
"Grrr ..." Thranduil growled through his gag.  
  
"Please?" Elrond yelled.  
  
"NO!"   
  
Elrond shrugged in defeat, but Glorfindel got a sly look in his eyes.  
  
"You will not let us pay ransom money for Legolas' freedom?" he called up. "What a shame. I suppose we will have to call on our vast army located right over the edge of this vale!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Erestor hissed, poking Glorfindel in the ribs. "We don't HAVE a vast army!"  
  
"I know that, and you know that," replied Glorfindel. "But does HE know that?"  
  
Apparently, he did.  
  
"Get out of here RIGHT NOW!" Saruman shouted. "Or I'll set the wargs on you!"  
  
Despite loud muffled protests on the part of Thranduil, the group decided it best to retreat for the time being.  
  
"So!" Nevladiel panted as they fled. "Do we have ... a second plan ...?"  
  
*************  
  
Mercuria: To be continued very very soon. 


	4. Plan B, Meet Plan C

Mercuria: Wow, um, what can I say? I ... uh, took a long time.  
  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien, the first plan belongs to Monty Python (originally the Greeks), the second plan belongs to Terry Pratchett, and Nevladiel is mine.  
  
**********  
  
It was well after nightfall as the would-be rescuers made camp just outside Nan Curunir.   
  
"Do we have any food?" Erestor wanted to know, poking their fire with a stick.  
  
Elrond yawned.  
  
"I am afraid not," he said. "I believe that Glorfindel said something about hunting, but in the interests of-"  
  
"That's not our main concern!" Thranduil cried, his eyes glowing eerily in the firelight. "We need to formulate another plan to save Legolas!"  
  
"My lord Thranduil is correct," Nevladiel said. "Fortunately, I have come up with a plan which I believe will be successful."   
  
Thranduil grinned. Erestor, Glorfindel, and Elrond recoiled.  
  
"Wonderful!" he said. "We will hear this plan immediately."  
  
"My lord, would it not be better to-"  
  
"IMMEDIATELY."  
  
**********  
  
Legolas looked down from Orthanc in confusion. There appeared to be some little specks ... about five, he guessed ... pushing a small wooden thing towards the doors of Orthanc.  
  
"What in Arda is going on?" he wondered aloud.  
  
**********  
  
"Saruman!" Elrond cried. "We bring you this gift in order to establish our lowliness! We will now be going back to Rivendell to sit and do nothing!"  
  
Everyone nodded emphatically as they pushed the giant wooden pony up to the steps of Orthanc. They then proceeded to run away quickly.  
  
"Hmm ..." said Saruman, approaching the contraption. "I wonder what it is ... it's quite large."  
  
He knocked on the giant wooden pony's stomach.  
  
"And it's hollow ..." His eyes lit up. "It must be a pi–ata!"  
  
Grinning, Saruman had a group of Orcs drag the pony into Orthanc. He followed them inside, rubbing his hands together.  
  
Glorfindel, Elrond, Thranduil, Erestor, and Nevladiel slowly sat up and looked down into the Wizard's Vale.   
  
"So ... what happens now?" Erestor said in a loud whisper.  
  
"Well," Nevladiel replied, "Lord Glorfindel, King Thranduil, and I will leap out of the pony and attack Saruman, taking him completely by surprise!"  
  
Everyone nodded, then blinked.  
  
"Wait ... WHO will be jumping out of the pony?"  
  
Nevladiel looked slightly confused.  
  
"L-lord Glorfindel, King Thranduil, and I ..." she said slowly.  
  
Erestor sighed in disgust.  
  
"W-well ... perhaps if we were to build a large wooden N‰zgul ..."  
  
Thranduil hit her.  
  
************  
  
Legolas sat on top of Orthanc, whistling to himself. Saruman appeared, but Legolas did not seem to notice.  
  
Saruman coughed loudly. Legolas turned around quickly.  
  
"Yes?" he said.   
  
"I ..."  
  
Legolas waited.  
  
" ... have found ... a suitable torture method!"  
  
Legolas gasped in horror, then blinked.   
  
"No you haven't," he scoffed.  
  
"Yes I have!"  
  
"I say you're bluffing," Legolas said bravely.  
  
"Oh, really?" Saruman said, voice dangerously soft.   
  
Legolas gulped. Saruman cackled.  
  
"Your torment, my prince, shall be slow, painful, and creative!" he declared. Very slowly, Saruman drew a leather-bound book from somewhere in his robes. He opened it- slowly- and began to read.   
  
"Hey dol, merry dol, ring a dong dillo ..."  
  
Legolas burst into peals of Elven laughter.  
  
"You call THAT torture?" Legolas chuckled. He pointed to himself. "Elf. Poetry. Elf. Poetry. Elves. Like. Poetry."  
  
Saruman paused.  
  
"Well, it IS annoying cheerful and filled with nonsensical words," he said.  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Fine," Saruman growled, tossing the book off the tower. "Then I'm cutting off your ears."  
  
"AGH!"  
  
**********  
  
Thranduil woke up with a jolt.   
  
"My lord?" Nevladiel mumbled sleepily. "What ails you?"  
  
"Legolas is in trouble!" Thranduil cried loudly. Elrond sat up bleary-eyed and gave a great yawn.  
  
"What has happened, Thranduil?" he asked.  
  
"Legolas is being tormented! I can SENSE it!"  
  
Elrond blinked, but Nevladiel sighed.  
  
"My lord Thranduil, we have been through this before," Nevladiel said patiently. "You do NOT share a psychic link with your son."  
  
Thranduil snarled.  
  
"Yes I do! I will NOT be contradicted!"  
  
"But my lord-" Glorfindel began; by now, everyone was awake.   
  
"EVER!"  
  
Elrond hit Thranduil with a pillow.   
  
"You must stop doing that," he said irritably. "It makes me angry and upset."  
  
"YOU make me angry and upset," Thranduil shot back.  
  
Nevladiel glanced at Elrond apologetically, then shifted her attention to Thranduil.  
  
"Please, my lord," she said pleadingly, "I beseech you to wait until morning. We will be more alert and more able to accurately assess the situation."  
  
Thranduil growled.  
  
"Fine!" he snapped. "I see where your TRUE loyalties lie, Nevladiel! With this ... this *fashionable* Elf lord and his minions!"  
  
Nevladiel gasped.  
  
"My lord-"  
  
"I'm going to rescue Legolas, even if I have to do it MYSELF!"  
  
And with that, Thranduil strode purposefully from the Elves' camp. For a long time, no one said anything.  
  
"Tough guy to work for, huh?" Glorfindel said finally.  
  
************   
  
The sun peeked over the edge of the Wizard's Vale, painting the land in pale pinks and yellows. A bird sang a cheerful morning tune, and was promptly shot by an Orc.  
  
"King Thranduil! Oh, where could he be?!" Nevladiel cried.  
  
"Calm yourself, Lady Nevladiel," Elrond said. "We all know that Thranduil has gone to rescue Legolas, and is likely to be in Orthanc."  
  
Glorfindel ran up to them.  
  
"Everyone!" he said. "Through careful scouting of the perimeter, I have discovered that there is a convenient trap door by the wall. The door leads up into Orthanc!"  
  
Elrond applauded. "Excellent work, Glorfindel."  
  
Nevladiel frowned. "If we enter Orthanc by that route, will we not risk being spotted by Saruman's Orcs?"  
  
"True," Glorfindel said. "However, I have a cunning plan ..."  
  
************  
  
"You know, people SAY things about Thranduil," Erestor said quietly as Elrond, Glorfindel, Nevladiel, and himself crept along the underground tunnel that the trap door led to.  
  
"My lord Thranduil is a wise and benevolent ruler," Nevladiel said stiffly.  
  
"Oh, right, of course, of course!" Erestor agreed. "However ..."  
  
Nevladiel looked at him warily. "However?"  
  
Erestor crawled closer to Nevladiel and hastily whispered something in her ear.  
  
"WHAT?" she yelped.  
  
"Shhhh!" cautioned Elrond and Glorfindel.  
  
"But how could he- and with his SON? What idle malice led to the creation of these lies?" Nevladiel demanded.  
  
"It's just what they say!" Erestor said defensively.   
  
"All right, all right," Glorfindel said, standing up. "It is time to implement my cunning plan."  
  
"Must we implement the plan?" Erestor whined, reluctantly pulling out a long gown. Glorfindel glared at him.  
  
"In order to rescue Legolas- and, I dare say, King Thranduil- we will all need to disguise ourselves as women," Elrond said. "ALL of us."  
  
"What does Isengard need with laundresses, anyway?" Erestor muttered sullenly, tying an apron around his waist.  
  
"Silence!" Nevladiel whispered anxiously. "Orcs are approaching!"  
  
Elrond, Glorfindel, Nevladiel, and Erestor shrank down into the shadows of the tunnel, scarcely daring to breathe. Once the last of the Orc footsteps had died away, they cautiously looked out into the stony corridor and scurried towards what looked like another secret passageway.  
  
**********  
  
Appearances, as many have found out the hard way, can be deceiving. Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, and Nevladiel were unpleasantly surprised to discover that their supposedly secret doorway was in fact the main entrance to the Orcs' mess hall. As hundreds of thousands of beady (and bulging, and yellow, and catlike) eyes turned towards them, all four Elves found themselves, all at once, thinking the exact same thing:  
  
"Help."  
  
"Well, well, what do we have here?" growled one of the biggest Orcs, approaching the Elves.  
  
"Courage, friends," whispered Elrond. "Now is the time to implement the cunning plan ..."  
  
Raising his voice by an octave and a half, Elrond replied, "Why, sir! We are but simple laundresses, come hither to ... uh, launder!"  
  
Nevladiel, Erestor, and Glorfindel nodded fervently.  
  
"Oh!" the Orc said, looking slightly less as though he wanted to eat them (which, for an Orc, is positively contrite). "My apologies. Please, go about your business, ladies."  
  
The four Elves grinned. That had been refreshingly easy.  
  
"Thank you, sir!" said Glorfindel, also making his voice high. "We'll just be on our way, then ..."  
  
"Hey, wait a minute!" called another Orc. "Since when do WE have bloody laundresses? I've never seen any here BEFORE."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Good point!" said the first Orc. It glared at the Elves with narrowed eyes, saying accusingly, "You're not laundresses!"  
  
"Um, why not?" asked Erestor.  
  
"We don't have any laundry here!" said the second Orc. "You CAN'T be laundresses."  
  
"Um, we wash armor?" Nevladiel suggested.   
  
"They're dirty spies!" came a new Orc's voice.   
  
"Saruman'll want a word with THIS lot, no doubt."  
  
Throughout this conversation, Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, and Nevladiel had been slowly moving closer and closer to each other; now they stood with backs pressed together, glancing nervously at the vast sea of enemies. There was no doubt in any of their minds that they were all completely screwed.  
  
"Let's run now," Erestor suggested.  
  
**********  
  
Mercuria: Oh my God, yes, it HAS been that long ... but the fourth chapter is done done done! Whee! Review! 


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